By this time the stars were shining clear in the cold, frosty sky, and
candles or train-oil lamps were burning in most of the houses; for all
these things took place long before gas had been heard of in those
quarters. A few faces were pressed close to the window-panes as the
cart passed; and some rather untidy women came to the house-doors to
look. And they spoke one to another words which, though inaudible
through the noise of the cart, were yet intelligible enough to Annie,
with her own forebodings to interpret the expression of their faces.
"That'll be little Annie Anderson," they said. "She's gaein hame to
bide wi' her cousin, Robert Bruce, up i' the Wast Wynd. Puir wee
lassie!"
For, on the way, Annie had been informed of her destination.
But she was too miserable already, because of leaving her old home, to
care much to what new one she was going. Had it not been for the
absorption of this grief, she could not have been indifferent to the
prospect of going to live with her cousin, although her dislike to him
had never assumed a more active form than that of wishing to get away
from him, as often as he came near her.
The cart stopped at Bruce's shop-door.
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